


I Will Have You Now

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Weird But Beautiful [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: American Southwest, Camphor, Camphor Oil As Sexual Stimulant, Corporal Punishment, Explicit Language, Fellatio, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hidden Yearnings, Hitching Posts, Inappropriate touching, Language, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Touching, Out of Character Spock (Star Trek), Perineum, Perineum Touching, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rope Bondage, Sagebrush, Scratching, Sexual Fantasy, Shore Leave, Silver Sagebrush, Skin Abrading, Skin Kink, Spanking, Sucking off, Tear Away Pants, Thunderbird Reference, american west, assless chaps, cowboy, giving head, perineum massage, sexual touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: Spock takes McCoy out to a ghost town in the desert and uncharacteristically demands sexual intercourse with him.  McCoy tries to divert him until the Vulcan can come to his senses.  But Spock seems quite determined to have his way with McCoy, whether it's logical or not.
Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Series: Weird But Beautiful [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761436
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	1. Spock Right On

“You will perform for me, Doctor, and you will do exactly as I wish,” Spock ordered with menace written all over that stoic Vulcan face of his.

No doubt about it. Spock wanted to have his way with McCoy, and he wanted it now! Even if they were presently out in the middle of nowhere with nary a comfy bed nor even a decent straw pallet in sight to cushion them, that hadn't stopped Spock just now from demanding McCoy's participation in a sexual act with him. The request had come, without preamble, and had left Leonard McCoy justifiably stunned at its rudeness, crudeness, and bluntness. And when McCoy had objected, Spock had stated in no uncertain terms that McCoy would submit. And now!

Maybe the riding around in that bouncing jeep over rough terrain had shaken more than their teeth and bruised their hips. Maybe it had separated Spock from his clear thinking and common sense. It most assuredly had severed his ties to civilized behavior!

To give himself a moment to collect himself, McCoy glanced around at the bleak landscape and the bleaker buildings before him. It looked like the kind of place that would only attract the most hard up (literally speaking) or the most naïve. Apparently Spock fit into both categories.

McCoy instinctively glanced at Spock's jean-covered nether regions. Was that a slight bulge handing low in the Vulcan's britches? Spock with an erection?! Couldn't be! He had always seemed so asexual before. What about this desert wasteland had worked its magic on Spock and had turned him into a Lothario?

McCoy might have wished to inspire such a forceful reaction in Spock, but not under their present surroundings. It was the direct opposite of a perfect location for a romantic interlude. The only things that might get in a dreamy mood about this desolate place might be a gila monster or a kangaroo rat. Everything else, especially two people in fevered ecstasy, would probably opt for an evening of intimate dancing under the stars followed by torrid lovemaking in a secluded boudoir.

Damn, McCoy thought. This sure as hell ain’t what I signed up for!

But it sure as hell looked like what he was going to get.

He figured that Spock would be no Prince Charming in the romance department. He probably hadn't had much practice with the art of gradual approach to gentle intimacy, but surely even Spock could whip up a little more subtlety than this technique! McCoy had been trying to catch Spock's attention for awhile, but figured that his own hints were going way over Spock's head when there hadn't been any return of his interest. Apparently McCoy should have aimed higher instead of lower, because his signals must have been hitting Spock right in his nether regions. Otherwise, why would Spock had demanded something like that almost out of the blue?

McCoy wasn't expecting hearts and flowers from the guy with him. After all, he knew what he was working with here. Spock did not have the reputation for being a red-hot lover, excepting in the way that he looked at computers and seemed to caress them with awe and esteem whenever he touched them. Lucky indeed would be a human who was touched in a similar fashion by him. But McCoy doubted if very few of them had ever been so honored. Nyota Uhura, most assuredly. It was probably the closest boy/girl relationship that Spock had ever shared. James T. Kirk, hmm, quite likely. There had to be more than intellectualism and a huge respect between them. A few others on the crew, maybe. But most of them, Spock treated as a necessary evil as one would treat automatic doors or microwave ovens: handy, but replaceable.

It wasn't that Spock acted rude or crude to most people he encountered on a daily basis. On the contrary, he was a most courtly and gracious gentleman to those who flitted casually around the perimeters of his life. But he did tend to put people in their places if they were not essential to his inner self. He wasn't warm and fuzzy, and McCoy doubted if he ever would be.

So McCoy wasn't expecting much from him. But some imagination would be a refreshing plus. And some common decency would be a nice touch in this situation. And a little less blatant vulgarity would be greatly appreciated. Besides, Spock's overture just wasn't striking the right cord with McCoy.

Maybe Spock would get the idea of how to proceed if McCoy cajoled him a little.

McCoy faked an easy-going smile on his face. It certainly didn’t reflect the inner turmoil he was feeling. But he had to delay matters and hope that Spock came to his senses before something happened that they would both regret. 

Because McCoy feared it would be doubly worse for Spock when he finally realized what he had done. It would shatter the mind of that stately gentleman to know that he had attacked someone, especially if it was someone who was not threatening him. And if that someone was someone he held in high esteem and considered to be a close personal friend-- Well, the Vulcan would never be able to forgive himself. His shame and self-hatred would cause him to suffer great anguish. McCoy did not wish that sort of remorse on anyone, especially someone he considered to be a close personal friend, also.

Besides, McCoy feared the sheer physical pain to himself if he was sodomized. Nobody wants to experience pain, especially DOWN THERE. McCoy had had bouts of hemorrhoids in his anal area throughout the years. Although healed, he remembered the tenderness in that region and the pressure of trapped blood pushing against the sensitive nerve endings located in that part of his anatomy. It had been no fun, he remembered.

And if he was brutally entered now and thoroughly reamed out, more than just his anus would be violated. His whole rectum would be bruised and battered and swollen. For if Spock did this dastardly deed (and it appeared that he seemed quite determined to do so), he would not do it halfway. And McCoy would suffer the consequences of Spock's ardor. As the ol' online urban dictionary would define it, McCoy's "poohole would look like (____(o)____)"* when the Vulcan got through with him.

Because McCoy figured that Spock would have a sledge hammer for a penis, especially if it was erect. Occasional glimpses during medical exams had given McCoy that information about Spock's flaccid member, and imagination had done the rest. McCoy was a doctor. He knew about stuff like that. And he was a man. He knew how quickly an amusing gurgling brook of a penis could transform itself into a raging mountain stream at full flood and ready for action. Mother Nature had designed guys that way. She probably hadn't neglected Spock, either, no matter how much he tried to deny his emotions.

So, as another time-honored expression went, it would be, Goodbye, asshole, for Leonard McCoy. For Spock seemed hellbent to stick it to McCoy, if only for the pleasure of forcing himself past McCoy's anal sphincter. After all, he hadn't asked charmingly; he had demanded rudely. And crudely. How, McCoy wondered, had Spock assumed that McCoy would be flattered by such a request?

Simple. Because it wasn't meant to be anything pleasurable for McCoy. It was meant to have access to McCoy in the most demeaning way possible by violating that sacred citadel on McCoy while he was incapacitated. Surely Spock realized that McCoy would not submit to anything like that without putting up a fight of some sort! Surely he knew that McCoy would not lie there while he fucked McCoy's brains out!

Because McCoy also figured that Spock would not stop with his aggression once he had breeched McCoy's anus. Entering McCoy's body by conquering his anus would be a moral victory. But Spock meant to enjoy himself. He wasn't going to do this as if he was making a point in a debate. No, he meant to humiliate and to annihilate McCoy. Common sense said that if an attacker had gone that far, he most certainly would not stop surging forward until he had satisfied his lusts. And that would be a hell of a way past McCoy's ruined anus.

It wouldn’t be a pleasant experience for McCoy, especially in the mood that Spock was in. McCoy wasn't quite certain what had Spock so pissed off, but the Vulcan seemed quite hellbent on seeking restitution through physical domination and humiliation. McCoy’s only hope of not suffering such harsh treatment was to delay the inevitable until Spock’s common sense and good nature returned. Something had to have swung his thinking into wrong channels. McCoy could only hope that they would soon swing back to the man he knew.

For McCoy would be no match for Spock’s strength. If Spock was hellbent to have anal intercourse with him, then McCoy might as well bend over, grab his ankles, grit his teeth, and try to make his mind a blank while he was being sorely used. He'd rather skip the whole ugly episode, though.

McCoy’s only hope of avoiding the repugnant act was to reach Spock’s sense of decency. It had to be inside Spock somewhere. Something like that didn’t just disappear. For far too long McCoy had known him to be nothing but a good and gentle person with deep concern for the safety and welfare of all creatures. He was a caring person with a fine sense of justice and humanity. Those traits were not sloughed off like dead skin cells. They were part of a person as much as the color of his eyes or the shape of his ears.

McCoy didn’t know what had triggered this reaction, either. It could've been anything. Space spores. Possession by some foreign entity. Mind control from some long-forgotten computer. Ultraviolet rays that had adverse effects on Vulcans, but not on Earthlings. It had to be something outside Spock. McCoy could not believe that Spock had harbored such lusts for him all along and had waited until now to express them. That just did not make sense.

He just had to bide his time.

But Spock wasn’t buying it.

Spock frowned. “Why are you smiling like that? Do you not believe that I will do as I say?”

“Oh, I believe that you think that you want to do this thing to me. I just think that the man I know does not want to hurt me in this way.”

Spock gave him a haughty look. “Perhaps I am not the man whom you believe you know.”

“Now, that I’d believe.”

“How do you know that I have not been pretending to be your friend until your guard was down?”

“Then I’d say you've had an awful lot of patience waiting for the right moment. We’ve served together for years and nothing like this has ever come forward until now. And you’ve had better opportunities to get at me, much better than when we were on shore leave this time.”

Spock frowned. “I have?”

“Surely you haven’t forgotten when we were marooned on that desolate planet last year. We’d found shelter in a cave, but I was feverish and incapacitated. You stripped me naked and placed me in the best possible spot so that the air circulating in the cave could cool me. You gently bathed my burning body with cool waters running through the cave when dumping water on me all at once might've stopped my heart. So much abrupt coldness would've been too much of a shock, so you slowly sponged me off. It took hours to bring my fever down. Then, when it finally broke, I started chilling and you had to hold me to keep me warm. It must've been like embracing an ice cube and had to have drained the heat from your own body. But yet, you held onto me and reassured me. And all that time, you never once took a break or left my side no matter how wild my raving got. That had to have taken the patience of a saint."

"I did what was needed to be done to save your life. I did not want to lose you."

"But there was all that time I was incapacitated. You could’ve done anything you’d wanted with me then, and I couldn’t have stopped you. I doubt if I would even have remembered it. You could’ve told me later that the tenderness in my rectum was from a fall or a wild animal attack.”

"A wild animal attack?" Spock questioned.

McCoy shrugged. "They get horny, too. And they might not be too choosy if they can't have any females of their own kind. Even a sick alien like me would've been tempting to something like that, especially if I couldn't fight back." He glanced at Spock even though he didn't want to. "I'm thinking that it would have been the perfect opportunity for you, too."

“Somehow it did not seem to be the right time to have relations with you. An injured man is not alluring. He is just injured.”

“Can’t argue with logic like that,” McCoy said with a sigh.

"But you are not ill or incapacitated now. So I want to do things to you now."

Back to that, McCoy thought with an unspoken sigh. "Mind telling me just what brought all of this on?"

Spock looked smug. "I found something that has inspired me."

"Meaning I didn't?" McCoy wanted to know, half miffed that he wasn't held in much higher regard than that.

Spock gave him an ironic smile. "Something besides you." He thought it over for a moment. "Something to enhance you, shall we say. Like salt brings out the flavor of whatever food it touches. Or, as black pepper adds zest to that same food, so this will intensify your considerable physical charms."

Damn that Vulcan! He knew the right buttons to push on McCoy, alright. Stroke my ego, why don't you? "Just so I'm not slighted," McCoy growled and hated his vanity.

"Oh, you will not be slighted, my friend. In fact, I believe that you will be highly entertained. Regard this treasure, please."

Spock smiled, stepped away from the jeep they had been riding in, and thrust out his arm. McCoy's eyes followed to where he was pointing.

There wasn't that much to see in whatever direction they looked. The whole place was sand, hard scrabble, and sagebrush. They had stopped in the old Western town somewhere in the deserts of the American Southwest, because it seemed to be part of their shore leave to do so. The seemingly deserted settlement was more ghost town than anything else. None of the charm of the Old West hung around its abandoned buildings, though. It was just some hastily built buildings that had served their purpose years ago and were now slowly returning to the unproductive ground beneath them.

"You have eclectic tastes," McCoy muttered, not seeing anything charming about this place whatsoever. "I remind you of some old buildings falling apart? Not exactly a love song, Vulcan. I am not impressed, amused, intrigued, or complimented. Whatever in this pile of old trash was supposed to strike me with awe? Or should I ask, what about it is speaking to you?"

"You missed the hitching post," Spock replied with an amiable smile.

McCoy glanced at the item in question. It was a horizonal wooden post secured between two upright wooden posts and stood in front of what must have been the saloon. It was a standard item in Western towns so that cowboys could tie their horses to it while they went about their business. It was as familiar in Western movies as horses themselves and as necessary.

A tic of interest nipped at McCoy in spite of himself. Whatever was on Spock's mind? "What about it? It looks like everything else in this town, except maybe it's a little sturdier."

"That is because it was built to withstand and to restrain the bucking and yanks of a large beast of burden such as a horse."

"Well, yeah. Horses can get spooked by outlandish things occasionally. Sudden noises. Rattlesnakes under their hooves. Cowboys in lavender shirts. Things like that. So their tethers have to really hold them in check. But what does have to do with me?"

"Why, we are going to surmise if you are as strong as a horse. While your attention is being purposely diverted, of course," Spock explained and sounded just as sane as the next person. Except McCoy knew he wasn't.

"You're shitting me," McCoy muttered and tried to ignore the thrill of excitement that had shot up his backside. A hitching post! Whatever did the Vulcan have in mind?!

Spock’s smile wasn’t cryptic as always, but sinister. “I promise you, Doctor, I will not be the one emptying his bowels.”

That frightened McCoy. Once again, Spock was taking an idiom literally. And somehow that made everything worse and more real. “Jim knows where I am.”

“Do not be concerned with your physical body. The captain will be getting back his friend with his bodily structure all accounted for. Your only difference is something that cannot be seen.”

McCoy felt a pulse in his chin. “Psychological damage is something I thought you’d never resort to.”

“Who said anything about damaging you, either mentally or physically?” Spock asked in a calm voice, but it did little to placate McCoy.

“You’re doing a damn good job of insinuating that something’s gonna happen to me out here today and that it ain’t gonna be pleasant!”

“The thought of experiencing great emotion is not pleasant to me, either, yet you are continually trying to get me to participate in such experiences. I believe you say that you regret that I will not know the exhilarating highs of success and the crushing lows of failure.”

“Well, yeah, of course, I do. I don’t want you missing out on anything that Life has to offer.”

Spock acted smug. “Shall we say, then, that this experience is in that category?” When McCoy looked puzzled, Spock continued. “It is something that I wish you to experience.”

“That could be anything from tasting Saturn toad pee to sleeping with a many-headed hydra that likes mouth kissing,” McCoy muttered. "One could be as repugnant as the other is dangerous."

“It is something that you yourself have mentioned as something you wished to experience.”

“Oh, hell, that could be anything, too,” McCoy muttered with bug eyes. “Especially if I was drinking.” He frowned in thought. “I think I’m gonna be preferring the Saturn toad pee before this is over.”

“As a matter of fact, you and Captain Kirk were in a celebratory mood when this secret yearning of yours came to light. I thought it quite strange myself, but I find that being unable to defend myself during a sexual attack to be quite repugnant--”

“Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” McCoy pleaded, halfway remembering a drunken conversation with Kirk. If it was the one he was thinking about, he and Kirk were confessing all sorts of perverted desires. The trouble was, the hidden perversions were probably revealing what the guys really wanted but had to keep hidden because of the dictates of polite society.

“Just what are you planning on doing to me out here?” McCoy demanded while horror and disbelief raced through him. Yet a perverted excitement was causing a pulse to quicken in his neck. Spock had said something about not being able to defend himself during a sexual attack…. The only way that could happen was if he was restrained. And the handiest thing out in this deserted ghost town to shackle him to was that damn hitching post. He would be defenseless.

Spock wouldn’t!

He couldn’t!

McCoy wouldn’t allow it!

But yet there was that damn pulse jumping around in his neck and a shiver that was coursing through his body like all of his senses had gone crazy all at once at the idea of being restrained and at the mercy of the Vulcan! A Vulcan who was bound to take his time and be very thorough with whatever task he had before him! Especially if it was McCoy's shackled and incapacitated body awaiting Spock's ministrations!

Damn that pulse jumping around in his neck! Next the Vulcan would be noticing it! He had the eyes of an eagle and the instincts of a hawk! McCoy would be powerless to defend himself!

Damn that shiver of excitement!

“Come on, Doctor,” Spock said quite reasonably. “You know that this is going to happen. So you might as well stop fighting it.”

“So you’re saying you’re doing this because I want it. Not because you want it.”

“I did not say that I did not want it. It seems like an excellent idea.”

“Well, if all you’re wanting is a roll in the hay with me, come to my quarters sometimes and I’ll accommodate you--” McCoy gave him a stripping look. "I could work up whatever enthusiasm is needed. If you can."

“But that is not what you are wanting, Doctor,” Spock reminded him amiably. “I am only trying to please you.”

"Odd way of doing it," McCoy muttered.

"I am just trying to offer you something unique."

"If it's all the same to you, I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy myself. Missionary-style and all that. Twice a week, Wednesdays and Saturday nights. And after dance night at the VFW if I'm lucky."

"You say that, but you said the other thing, too."

"I say a lot of things. You don't have to take it all as gospel. I was just bullshitting with Kirk. We do a lot of that, especially when we're drinking. Guys like to brag. And elaborate the truth a little."

"I have found that people who have become intoxicated oftentimes are quicker to tell the truth than someone who is sober and in control of his full faculties."

"Well, yeah, there is that."

"Besides, it is something you want. And I am using your paradigms, Doctor," Spock was quick to remind him.

“But this seems so mechanical, so, so….”

“Unromantic?”

“Precisely!” McCoy declared, jumping on the word.

"Perhaps I should have bought your dinner and taken you out dancing first?" Spock asked with irony and a broad hint of disbelief.

"Just ram, bam, thank you, ma'am?"

Spock gave him a dyspeptic look. "Now who is not being romantic?"

“Well, how is this all supposed to proceed?” McCoy tried to sound bored, but he was anything but bored on the inside of himself. He gave Spock a wry glance with a crooked smile. “Are you gonna rip off my britches, bend me over that hitching post, and have your way with me?”

“Something like that.”

“Good luck with ripping off denim. Jeans are built tough.” Aha! Spock had been caught up!

“Not so,” Spock answered as if he had read McCoy’s thoughts. “Your undergarment is not made of regular denim.”

“Really?” McCoy frowned as he looked down at himself. Chaps over Levis. Just like real cowboys wore while working in the underbrush.

The only problem was that he and Spock hadn’t really gotten into heavily thorny territory. He’d wondered idly why they had donned such clothing then, but decided that it had been for authenticity. When in Rome and all of that.

Spock walked behind McCoy, grabbed the jeans by their back pockets, and pulled down sharply and out. The result was McCoy felt his manhood tumble forward in a little cloth pouch while the prairie breeze struck his bare butt cheeks and whistled around his upper thighs. Shards of the faux denim lapped down over the top of the chaps. McCoy felt the fringe dangling down from the belt of the assless chaps playfully tickling his bare skin as the desert wind gently moved the fringe around.

“Hey! I’m naked to the world!”

“Just your posterior, Leonard. Your penis is quite contained and protected. And your legs are still protected by your chaps.”

“But all of my private parts are exposed! Both forward and aft!”

“And you really look quite charming, Doctor,” Spock reassured him as he studied the picture that McCoy made with his exposed private area bare to the sunlight of day. “It does wonders for your physique and leaves nothing to the imagination. And I imagine that it feels quite freeing.”

“I feel stupid, if you really want to know.”

“I am quite prepared to make you feel other things,” Spock reassured him further, and brought back the heartbeat in McCoy’s neck and the shortness of breath in his lungs.

“Yeah, well, but what if me and my bare ass ain’t interested in your perverted plans?”

“Oh, but, Doctor, I believe that you are endeavoring to tell me a lie now,” Spock chided with a whimsical set to his face. “I believe that you are very interested in what I have planned for you. You simply do not wish to give me the pleasure of knowing that I have pleased you with all of these preparations. That is alright. I will get my reward when I hear you sighing and pleading with me to give you relief while you are bucking and trying to free yourself from your shackles.” He leaned closer and murmured in McCoy’s ear. “But all that will happen is that you will only tire yourself so that I can have freer access to your restrained and spread open body.”

“Holy s***!” McCoy jerked as though he had been electrocuted. “You’re crazy!” he declared with bulging eyes.

“No, Leonard,” Spock said with satisfaction. “I am confident. I have prepared this little exercise with attention to details so that you will not be disappointed with what you experience.”

“You know I could call your bluff and go back to the hotel.”

"Afoot? Because that is the only way that you will be leaving before I have finished with you."

"If that's the only way I can go with my dignity-- and other parts of me-- intact, then, yes," McCoy answered haughtily.

“Do you want to go back the way we came?” Spock asked logically. 

He was almost too amiable, and that made McCoy suspicious. Spock had an ace up his sleeve that McCoy didn’t know about. Or had forgotten about.

“Hell, yes! That’s where the road leads! And that's where the hotel is!”

“The road also goes in the other direction, through this town and onward to what lies ahead.”

“I also can see that it deteriorates and gets rocky and hilly. Whoever named it a road had a weird sense of humor.”

“Yet cattle and horses transverse it all of the time. That herd of cattle that we passed a few miles back will be taking it.”

“Oh. I’d forgotten about them.” Was that Spock’s ace up his sleeve? McCoy wondered as a feeling of dread skipped along his shoulders. 

It wasn’t the cattle that McCoy had noticed so much as the wranglers herding them. They had studied Spock and McCoy with penetrating stares from under the shaded brims of their ten-gallon hats. They had also seemed to be assessing them as if trying to decide how much of a fight that Spock and McCoy could muster if they needed to defend themselves. McCoy had felt intimidated and outnumbered. He had been happy when he and Spock had passed them by.

Spock apparently sensed McCoy's apprehension about the trail-toughened cowboys, because what he said next did nothing to calm McCoy. “Those men have been on the trail for weeks. They are tired of the trail and tired of herding cattle. All they are wanting is a diversion.” He nodded toward the saloon. “They used to find such diversion in places such as these. But the beer does not flow inside anymore. The piano is silent and will not play anymore gay songs for them. And more importantly, there are no women to bring them relief in the bedroom.”

“Yeah, they’re probably horny as hell,” McCoy muttered.

“If you head back afoot the way we came, you will eventually meet that group of trail-hardened cowboys and their herd of cattle. And if show up among them with your white loins twinkling in this harsh desert sunlight and showcased by those ass-less chaps, you will be the center of attention while they take their turns having you. They would probably not finish with you until dawn streaked the eastern skies, and their thoughts once more turned to their herd and the open trail.”

“Oh, holy hell!” McCoy swore with genuine fear in his heart.

“So you have your choice,” Spock said amiably and relaxed once more. “Them, or me?”

“That’s a helluva choice!” McCoy snapped.

Spock shrugged. “Not really. I am trying to please you, and they will only be pleasing themselves.” He got a sly look on his face as if he thought he was about to say something clever. “With them, you will probably be walking as if you had been riding in the saddle for days.”

"And with you?"

"You will be sailing along with your feet barely touching the ground. That is how pleased you will be."

"Pretty damn sure of yourself, ain't you?"

"I have a quality product and I will perform magnificently. You will be singing with the angels."

“Don’t quit your day job,” McCoy grumbled. “You’re never gonna make it as a stand-up comic!”

“That is a matter of opinion.” Spock got a business-like look on his face. "But enough of talking," he said as he grasped McCoy's shoulder. "We must see to the task at hand."

Shit, McCoy thought. And felt like he would do that very thing at any moment. Because it sure looked like McCoy was not going to divert Spock from whatever he intended doing to him.


	2. Spock Right In

Spock determinedly led McCoy to the hitching post, and McCoy stared down at it as if it was a hangman's gallows. He'd never had much opinion about a hitching post one way or the other before, but now he studied this one as if it was soon going to be become the center of his universe for awhile. Which indeed it was going to be apparently, if Spock had anything to do with McCoy's immediate future.

McCoy frowned as the desert wind playfully tossed his dark hair and cooled his exposed buttocks. He would probably appreciate those cold breezes in time (depending on what Spock did to him), but now they were just a reminder of his nudity and vulnerability.

Spock's hard fingers dug into McCoy's biceps, and his lips were set in a firm, hard line that was uncharacteristic for Spock. "Come," he commanded as he frowned. Urgency was making him short-tempered, even for a Vulcan. "You tarry."

"Didn't you know that a condemned man always looks at the noose that is going to rob him of life?" McCoy muttered.

"You are not going to die," Spock vowed. "Maybe you just feel like it for awhile, though," he amended on retrospect. "I intend to make the experience noteworthy for you."

"That's what I thought! It's not gonna be much pleasure for me, whatever happens!" McCoy muttered as Spock dragged him forward.

Spock looked dyspeptic. "Such drama! Are you always so melodramatic?"

"Only when trusted friends turn on me and proceed to flip my world upside down."

"Said by the person who seems to live in a continual state of angst caused by his own inner turmoil and imagined slights, most of which exist only in his own paranoid mind."

Stunned by that evaluation, McCoy stared at him. "You think of me as unhinged? How can you even stand to be around me then?"

"Doctor, sometimes a person has to tolerate certain things in life because he has no other choice."

"Is that another way of saying that I'm necessary for you to live?" A grin was tickling McCoy's lips, despite his dire circumstances. Just what was the Vulcan going to confess to him? This might all turn out better for him than he'd imagined.

Spock stopped them in front of the hitching post. "You may interpret that any way you wish" he answered as he calmly studied McCoy. "But, yes. I do find that I consider you to be important to me."

"I'll be damn." That grin was playing along McCoy's lips again.

"We all may be damned before this day's deeds are finished. But most assuredly, we are going to tempt Fate by carrying out my plans."

"Maybe I'm thinking I don't want to participate in your plans. Maybe I just want to slink out of here and hide in the shadows somewhere in shame."

"It will not happen that way. Now stand here and try to act like you have a little nobility and pride left in yourself," Spock ordered as he lined McCoy up to how he wanted him to stand.

"Everybody's a critic," McCoy concluded with all of the angst he could manage to muster despite the gravity of the situation.

“Spread your feet so that your ankles are on the outside of the posts,” Spock ordered forcefully.

McCoy gave Spock a hateful look. Such a position would really spread him open. The posts weren’t that far apart, but that would be a considerable distance if McCoy was trying to straddle the posts.

"Well?"

"I'm not about to do anything so asinine and stupid!" McCoy declared with all of his hackles raised. "I will look asinine and stupid!"

“You will do what I request under your power, or under mine,” Spock told him amiably, but McCoy could hear the threat underneath. “But spread them, you will. And as far as I desire.”

McCoy grimaced, but did as he was told. But by doing so, it shortened him. The hitching post that had originally come to below his waist, now met it. And the position felt awkward with his feet so far apart. He felt like he was trying to straddle a gigantic barrel.

“I’m off balance,” he grumbled as he tried to keep himself from falling over backwards by leaning on the hitching post. At least the wood was smooth and had no splinters on it. He wondered how new this wood was and if Spock had ordered the hitching post made. If that was true, then they hadn’t come across this town and its hitching post by accident! Spock really had planned all of this!

“Do not worry,” Spock answered as he moved to the front of the hitching post. “I will now correct that.” He grabbed one of McCoy's wrists, pulled McCoy over the post, and squatted.

“Hey!” McCoy complained as he used his free hand to grab the top of the hitching post to steady himself. The round surface of the hitching post's crossbar dug into McCoy's armpit, and McCoy was happy that the wood was free of splinters.

Spock jerked on the arm so that he could tie it securely. The crossbar made its bulk known to McCoy's tender body.

“Watch it!” McCoy yelled as Spock proceeded to tie McCoy's wrist to the bottom of the hitching post. "Not exactly comfortable here!" McCoy was pulled at a painful angle with his body so awkwardly wrenched the way it was.

"That will pass."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"I am preparing you."

Somehow that word chilled McCoy and made him feel like he was going to be the sacrificial victim in some sort of orgy.

Spock grabbed McCoy's other wrist so that he could secure it to the bottom of the other post. McCoy's bottom flew up into the air as his body was pulled downward, and the blood rushed to his head.

"Do stop your whining. You are not being injured."

"I'm sure as hell not getting measured for a suit, either! Not exactly pleasant, you know, getting yanked down like that!"

“If I had secured your hands first, you might have fallen over the hitching post onto your face and hurt yourself,” Spock explained as he worked.

"I must be one helluva sight, like a damn duck diving for its dinner!" McCoy grumbled. "I feel like the telescope aimed up outa Palomar toward the stars! My ass must look like a target from the sky! Passing buzzards might think that I'm a tasty tidbit and zero in on my butthole!"

"You need not worry, Doctor," Spock reassured him as he finished. "I am thinking only of your wellbeing."

“And you’re thinking that I’m safe now?!” McCoy roared. "Out here?! Like this?! With a madman?!"

“I stand corrected. I am thinking that you are secure now.”

"Well, we wouldn't want to be having a problem now with semantics, would we?!" McCoy snarled with irony.

But Spock was unfazed by McCoy's frustrations. From his squatting position, Spock glanced up at McCoy’s face just a few inches above his own. “Secure, and quite available. And quite unable to defend yourself. From whatever I want to do with you. And to you.” And with that, he leaned up and settled his lips gently on McCoy’s.

“What the hell?!” McCoy sputtered as he jerked away. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“Stealing a kiss,” Spock replied amiably. Then he grabbed McCoy’s face and gently held it for a longer kiss. But this kiss grew bolder and more intense the longer it lasted.

McCoy moaned his displeasure, but could not pull away until Spock was thoroughly satisfied.

“What was that for?” McCoy snarled. “Just to prove you could?”

“Yes. It was.” Spock pulled himself to his feet. “Now, behave yourself or I will open my jeans and have you pleasure me. I believe that you are at an ideal height for that pleasant dalliance to occur.”

McCoy raised his head as much as he could and glared at Spock through his eyebrows. “Try that, and I’ll bite your prick off.”

Spock gave him an amiable look. “And you have happened on the reason why I will not require you to provide me with that service on this occasion.”

“Thought I’d make you think twice,” McCoy snorted.

“Besides, there are other ways that I will receive my pleasure,” Spock explained as he walked around to the other side of the hitching post. 

“You are a sick bastard,” McCoy muttered as he pulled at his shackles. But the only thing that got for him was a respect for Spock’s knot tying ability. After a few moments McCoy stopped struggling. It had probably given Spock all sorts of pleasure to watch his prisoner uselessly struggling against his bonds.

And it had.

The ghost town got quiet as Spock took in the sight before him: McCoy bent over the hitching post with his hips spread far apart. Nothing was hidden from Spock’s sight. Nothing.

Spock took his time. He wanted to memorize every inch of bare skin thrust up for his inspection. And he did.

The only thing that was going to give him more pleasure was to touch all of that skin and then to know it on an intimate basis. And he would. But first he was going to enjoy just the idea of possessing it and having it at his mercy.

At the height and angle that McCoy was standing, he could do nothing to protect or hide his private parts. He couldn’t even clasp his muscles together to hide his poor little anus. It was blatantly looking the world in the eye without its usual camouflage. The only thing that partially hid it was an errant piece of leather fringe that had draped itself across the top of the little puckered dent in McCoy's posterior. Meanwhile the naïve anus was staring at Spock in mute wonder.

And Spock was staring back at it. With mute wonder of his own. 

McCoy’s anus. McCoy’s citadel. The portal to McCoy’s hidden body.

Unprotected. 

And waiting.

And now Spock’s!

Whenever he wanted it! However he wanted it! As much as he wanted it! And McCoy could not deny him! All he had to do was to reach out and take what he had waited so long to possess....

But not yet!

Not yet. For McCoy must be prepared to receive him.

Spock started with one one finger spread with cooling lubricant and gently inserted it into the waiting anus. McCoy grunted at the coolness of the lube almost as much as at the invasion of his unprotected body. As soon as Spock thought he could, he inserted a second finger and then a third. He was not a heathen. He still could temper his lusts with compassion. And he had time, all the time in the world. McCoy wasn't going anywhere. So he gave McCoy a thorough stretching that would have prepared him to receive anything coming at him.

Finally, Spock just paused and looked down at the gaping hole awaiting his pleasures.

“Getting your eyes full?” McCoy muttered as he uselessly pulled at the thongs holding his wrists securely. He twisted his hips to adjust his legs, then figured that might be something that might bring pleasure to Spock, so he stopped. No sense getting the Vulcan’s juices stirred any more than they already were being stimulated. Then McCoy learned that he was an exhibitionist at heart. Because his body responded to the idea of being admired, even if his mind didn’t.

He blushed as he felt his back arch so that his buttocks were thrust out more. Then he felt them push up so that his perineum was more visible. As if Spock couldn’t see that magic strip of skin between McCoy’s scrotum and anus already! But there it was now! Slapping Spock in the face!

“You are truly beautiful,” Spock breathed. “Such a marvelous work of creation.”

“Don’t sound much like a rapist now,” McCoy muttered.

“I am looking at the whole picture now. Wait, this will make it better.”

McCoy felt Spock’s arm grazing the insides of his thighs as he reached between them and fumbled with the pouch holding McCoy’s penis. It sprang free and stirred as if the breeze had moved it. But McCoy knew it hadn’t been the breeze that had moved it, and so did Spock. His own excitement was guilty.

McCoy grimaced with bitter shame. That’s probably why Spock had freed the encased penis. So he could watch another part of McCoy responding to his touch and to his eyes taking him in. Damn voyeur! What did he expect if a man got stirred?! He reacted! McCoy just wished he wouldn’t be reacting so vividly, but there was little he could do to hide the responses of his body.

“Why the hell did you do that?! Ain’t I exposed enough, already?!”

“You needed to be free.”

“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to keep a few things known just to God and me.”

“I will keep your secrets, Leonard,” Spock said, suddenly close, as he breathed out deeply in appreciation. He pressed his body intimately against McCoy’s hip.

McCoy screwed his eyes closed. He had felt Spock’s breath on his naked flesh. The Vulcan must be standing very close to him.

And to prove that he was, Spock settled a hand low on one butt cheek, just where there would be a crease if McCoy was standing upright. Which, of course, he wasn’t doing now.

“So soft,” Spock marveled as his fingers pressed against the elastic tissue.

McCoy felt his skin pushing back up against Spock’s fingers as if they wanted to get closer.

Traitor fingers!

Spock firmly drew his hand up the cheek with his fingers splayed and pointing toward McCoy’s hip joint. The skin in front of the hand dimpled in anticipation of Spock’s touch and preened with its passing. Such shameless skin! Wanting to be admired the way it was!

Spock lifted his hand, and McCoy’s skin screamed in protest. But the open hand wasn’t gone for long. It came down with a resounding smack across the plump and tender flesh.

McCoy grunted as his skin tingled. That hand had marked him. He was certain of it. Because he could sure as hell feel where it had landed.

Then just that quickly another palm print appeared on the other butt cheek with the fingers splayed toward the other hip joint.

McCoy caught his lower lip between his teeth and twisted. That had stung, even if it hadn’t been delivered with Spock’s dominant hand. He must’ve used extra strength so he wouldn’t slight the one cheek.

“Perfect,” Spock announced with satisfaction. “It looks like a Native American Thunderbird with its wings extended upward in flight.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy with your creation. Me, not so much,” McCoy grumbled. 

“Such magnificence! Such beauty!” Spock declared in admiration. “But where is its beak?” Spock wondered. “Ah, here it is!” he announced with triumph as he firmly drew his rigid finger up McCoy’s perineum toward his anus, stopping just short of that sacred entrance.

McCoy gasped. The place Spock had touched was bad enough, but the damn bastard had put something moist and spicy on his finger! It burned into the tender flesh in one of McCoy’s most private areas, and McCoy couldn't reach it to give it any relief.

But Spock could. So he did. He pressed a different finger against the outraged nerve endings until McCoy's trembling slowed. 

“What the f***?!” McCoy exclaimed as he fought his bonds. “It’s a wonder I didn’t crap all over your hand for that little stunt!”

“And you are lucky that you did not perform your little stunt,” Spock said in a low voice. “It would not bode well for you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” McCoy muttered.

Spock cracked him quite sharply on each buttock.

“Yeow!” McCoy screamed as contracted his butt cheeks as much as he was able. His head jerked up and back, and the hitching post jerked with his motion. But it held, which Spock knew it would.

“Excellent workmanship,” Spock exclaimed as he tested the strength of the post himself.

“Glad you approve,” McCoy muttered as he slumped beside him.

“Oh, Leonard, do not make me punish you,” Spock wheedled in his ear as if it was McCoy’s fault for the spanking. “Do try to be a good boy now, so I can satisfy your hidden yearnings.”

“How about if I just change it to a night at the movies or a roller skating party? With a lot of people in attendance?”

“But that would not satisfy you, Doctor.” His cupped hand rotated the hip furthest from him. Then he patted it gently so that the firm flesh jiggled up and down like a jolly clown rocking back and forth on huge clown shoes.

“No, you want to be trussed up like this and feeling humiliated,” Spock murmured in his ear. “This is your wish, not mine.”

And McCoy shivered just hearing it. He knew that Spock was right.

At that moment Spock raked his fingernails across McCoy’s buttocks.

“What the--” McCoy started. “What was that for?!”

“I am making pinkish patterns on this marvelously tender skin,” Spock explained as he raked his fingernails diagonally across the first marks.

“What now?” McCoy asked, trying to sound bored. “Gonna play X’s and O’s?”

“No. I was just waking up your flesh.”

“For what?” McCoy wanted to know, suddenly very concerned. This couldn’t be good for him. It already felt like a few hundred bees nipping at his backside. It wasn’t unpleasant or nothing that he couldn’t endure, but he knew that Spock had further plans. And that was the part that concerned McCoy: The further plans for his poor, defenseless, suddenly very aware backside.

Then he heard Spock walking away.

“You aren’t leaving me tied up like this, are you?!” McCoy bellowed.

“Hardly,” Spock answered at a distance. “I will be just a moment. What I am seeking is everywhere. I wish to collect a worthy specimen. In the meanwhile, be reassured of my returning. I am not leaving you for someone else to find and claim. I have gone to too much trouble to prepare this recreation for you not to see it to its happy conclusion.”

“It could just be someone who would release me and rescue me,” McCoy challenged as he heard a snapping sound. That cracking was ominous and gave validity to some unknown entity. It made it real to McCoy, and he shuddered to think what Spock had found. And worse, what he was intending to do with it.

“Would you ignore such a discovery, Leonard?” Spock asked in a reasonable voice as he returned. McCoy could hear his footsteps. “If you found such a prize needing to be taken, would you turn away from it? Or would you examine it and handle it and finally put your mark on it?” He stopped behind McCoy. “Please do not insult my intelligence by saying that you would not explore it for your own pleasure, when I know that you would succumb to your base desires.”

“Alright, so I’m only an imperfect man. But that does not make it a bad man. Only normal.”

“I know,” Spock said suddenly closer. “See what I have brought for you?”

McCoy turned and frowned at the plant in Spock’s hands. “What the hell is that? Sagebrush?”

“Artemisia cana, to be precise. Silver sagebrush, to the layman. It is quite common in Western parts of the United States. It is noted for its aromatic aroma which is similar to camphor in taste and smell. And I suppose that the essential oils within it could be penetrating and biting to the skin.” The shadow of a smile floated across his face, and Spock looked quite satisfied with himself. “Especially if that skin had been recently abraded, say by fingernails raked sharply across it.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” McCoy snarled as he pulled at his shackles and tried to free himself to no avail. His bonds were quite secure.

“Now, Leonard, you know that will do you no good. You will just chafe your wrists and ankles.”

"Not worried about them right now!"

"You are quite droll," Spock mused as he slapped the sagebrush against the palm of his hand. The smell of camphor filled the air.

“Don’t use that thing on me! My backside is already sore! Why are you doing this thing to me?!”

“I want you to be able and willing to move when I wish it,” Spock said reasonably.

"You could always just say something!"

"But how entertaining would that be?"

"Your entertainment isn't high on my list right now!"

Spock chuckled. “I know. Now, shall we proceed?”

It was, of course, a rhetorical question and needed no answer.

McCoy involuntarily shivered when the sagebrush leaves touched his already abused buttocks. And he didn’t notice anything at first because Spock was gently feathering the leaves across his backside. Then Spock pressed down, and the oils in the plant nipped at McCoy with more intensity.

McCoy squirmed and jerked, but that only made Spock scour his buttocks.

“Holy sh**!” McCoy exclaimed and bucked and bucked until he had the hitching post practically jumping in place. But still it held, and so did McCoy’s bonds.

McCoy felt Spock tucking the sagebrush under the belt that held the fringe, but McCoy was in so much misery at that point that he didn’t care what Spock was doing as long as he stopped it.

Then the next moment, McCoy realized that the spanking and the fingernail scratching and the sagebrush scouring were only the preliminary events. 

McCoy could feel Spock grabbing his hips, but not to stop McCoy’s wild gyrations. No, he had another plan. Because that was when Spock decided to rape him.

As McCoy continued to shudder and twist as he tried to avoid the sagebrush oils nipping at his hips, Spock used his thumbs to pull open McCoy’s moist, unsuspecting anus. He studied the soft pinkness inside, then lined up his penis and plunged into that unprotected territory.

McCoy screamed and jerked and tensed. But Spock kept hammering away as if McCoy was relaxed and willing. And Spock made progress, despite McCoy’s muscles pushing against him. McCoy even twisted, trying to get away from the biting sagebrush on his outside and the advancing rock-hard cock tearing him asunder on the inside.

And if McCoy attempted to relax, Spock would grab the sagebrush and scour him with it again. And the walls of McCoy’s rectum would bear down on Spock’s penis and give him infinite pleasure as he plowed through them anyway.

At last even Spock was sated and spent and thoroughly depleted through a gut-wrenching orgasm as he came in McCoy’s body and pumped that poor abused body full of his steaming semen. 

“I hope you’re happy,” McCoy growled as he felt Spock slipping out of him like a thief in the night.

“Extremely,” Spock said in the dreamiest voice McCoy had ever heard from him.

“Lucky for you,” McCoy continued to growl. “I feel as useless and spent as that damn sprig of sagebrush you’re so fond of. And my poor cock is punching the air like a blind man who can’t find a willing whore in New Orleans!”

“Poor Leonard. So neglected,” Spock commiserated as he wiped himself and McCoy’s backside dry of semen. There were gallons of it, it seemed. He must’ve erupted like an overheated volcano, he decided happily. McCoy did have a way of inspiring him.

“At least untie me so I can take care of my condition. I don’t want to walk around like this. I might knock things down within six feet of me.”

“Now, Leonard, you are exaggerating, are you not?” Spock asked amiably as he sat down on his knees if front of McCoy and the hitching post.

McCoy frowned down at Spock. “What the hell do you think you’re gonna do down there?”

“Take care of my friend.”

“I think I’m gonna hate myself by asking, but how do you propose doing that? With your magic hands?”

“No,” Spock answered as he leaned forward. “With my magic mouth.” And with that, he guided McCoy’s rigid member into all of that Vulcan heat and dripping moistness.

It felt like sinking into the navel of the Earth and returning back into the womb. It felt like being reborn and rejuvenated and recreated. And it unnerved McCoy down to the tips of his shackled feet and left his insides feeling like silly putty.

McCoy screamed for the second time that day. He also tried to uproot the hitching post again, but had no further luck than all of the other times he’d tried it.

McCoy sobbed as his penis was drawn downward into Spock’s throat. He could feel the throat rings encompassing him and the muscles working rhythmically. He longed to grab Spock’s head and guide him, but he was powerless to do anything but quiver as all sorts of emotions swept through his body.

When his orgasm finally struck, he felt Spock grab his buttocks and hold him through the spasms and the screaming. His throat was going to be sore for days from all of his screaming. He could only imagine how sore that Spock’s throat was going to be from performing fellatio on him.

McCoy’s penis slid out of Spock’s mouth like an embarrassed clam caught in the sunlight without its shell. Spock looked a little greener than usual.

“Are you gonna be sick?” McCoy, ever the doctor, asked with a worried look.

Spock shook his head as if he didn’t really know for certain.

“You know it’s alright if you get rid of it. We weren’t meant to drink semen. If we were, it’d be a popular drink at whore houses. A steaming, frothing hit!”

Spock gagged. "That you for that image."

"Shit! Sorry."

“I believe it will help make a decision for me.” Spock moaned, turned his head, and spewed out a lot of milky stuff. He acted like he was going to turn himself inside out.

McCoy curled his lip and tried not to join Spock with his own vomit.

“Gonna live?” he asked Spock who was huddled on the ground beside his stinking spew and his trussed up friend.

“I am considering my options,” Spock murmured with barely enough energy to answer.

“And?”

“The committee on that decision is still out.”

McCoy grinned. “Wanna get up here and turn me loose so I can doctor you?”

Shaking slightly, Spock studied McCoy from his vantage point on the ground. “I want to have sexual congress with you again.”

McCoy blinked. “You’re shitting me! You need to rest! And I-- I need to get untied before I forget what it’s like to clap my hands or to cross my legs. I feel like I’ve been trying to straddle a stadium-sized beach ball.”

“No, no,” Spock maintained as he rolled onto his side and struggled to his feet. “I want to have normal intercourse with you as you are now. You are so appealing.”

“You think it’s normal to have your partner spread-eagle as if he’s coming down in a parachute?!” McCoy thundered and pulled on his restraints as if he hadn’t already tested their holding power already.

“I think that I want to try to be a little more gentle. I think that I want to take my time,” Spock answered as he softly stroked McCoy’s backside. 

McCoy tried to ignore the pleasant sensations that were running through his body from Spock’s hands. “Sounds interesting, but that cattle herd has to be getting closer to town by now. You really don’t want to share me with the cowpokes now, do you?”

“No, Doctor, I do not. I will turn you loose so we may leave.”

“Don’t go getting in too big of a hurry.”

Spock frowned as he glanced at McCoy in puzzlement. “Doctor?”

“I think we got time for a quickie. And don’t forget to do more body stroking this time.”

“I can only do that with your shirt off….”

“Then just shove it up on my shoulders! I want to feel your hands on me! That’s a secret desire of mine, too, you know! Your hands on my bare skin!”

“No, I did not,” Spock answered with a smile of interest. “But I do now. And I will try to accommodate.”

They got along nicely with the time element and were driving out of the town in the jeep just as the cattle herd with its trail-toughened cowboys were approaching the outskirts. The cowboys glared at the visitors, but the strangers did not even look them in the eye. You do not do that with snakes or wild animals or wranglers. It pisses them off.

“Oh, hell, we forgot the sagebrush!” McCoy realized as they bounced along.

“I will get us more, Doctor,” Spock reassured him. “The desert is full of it.”

“That’s good. Wouldn’t want to be without our little buddy.” He glanced slyly at Spock. "You might even want to try some of it."

Spock cocked a raised eyebrow at him and gave him a wise smile. "I might like that. Especially if you were using it on me."

McCoy looked pointedly down the road, then a grin creased his face. "Hell, yeah!"

Spock looked particularly contented.

McCoy thought something over for a moment. “Maybe Jim would like some of it, too.”

Spock glanced at him. “Would you really want to share with others?”

McCoy shot him a grin as he drove. “Nah! We’ll be selfish! Let the rest of the world find their own stimulants! I know I sure as hell have mine!”

“I was thinking more of my hand than anything else,” Spock said casually as his hand found a new resting place at the top of McCoy’s thigh.

“So was I, Mr. Spock!” McCoy agreed. “So was I! But it might slide off there. Wouldn't it be more secure between my legs?”

Spock thought it was a good idea, too, but it did make McCoy's driving a little erratic.

On the road back, three jackrabbits and a roadrunner had to dive for cover to avoid getting hit. But neither occupant of the weaving jeep even seemed to notice them. They had other things on their minds, and remarkedly it wasn't locating the best specimen of silver sagebrush for them to use during the coming night, either.

Although that was high on their list of essentials.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of Star Trek, its characters, and/or its story lines. I am making no money from any of this.
> 
> *Direct quote from urbandictionary.com. The illustration from the online urban dictionary is used for reference only. I do not own the online urban dictionary nor do I represent them.


End file.
